


Ye of Little Patience

by tsukinofaerii



Category: Fial Fantasy XII
Genre: Gen, HC Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/tsukinofaerii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Larsa has a spill, and gets a surprise visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ye of Little Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HC Bingo: Accidents

Larsa kept his eyes closed to block out the slivers of light that leaked from his bedroom windows. He'd ordered heavy drapes put on them, but the morning sun struck through the cracks like spears. Pain from the goose egg he'd collected the day before connected directly to his eyeballs. One fall from a spooked chocobo had been all it took to lay low the Emperor and the entire line of House of Solidor. If it had been almost any other wound—a broken arm, or bruising, say—he would have been on his feet and back to his duties. But the physicians had tutted and hummed and insisted that concussions were far too delicate to place faith in any magic but that of time.

Demanding a Haste Spell had not amused.

A quiet rap sounded at the door to his bedchamber, which he steadfastly ignored. It was likely only a servant, and he had neither time nor patience for fluffing his pillows or placing broth under his nose. Certainly, he would not put up with their insistence on keeping him idle, no matter what Gabranth insisted upon. Though he was the Emperor, he had only been so for a year, and none of the staff had quite adjusted to the change yet. He was still too much the "young lord" for them to have moved past their accustomed babying.

First, he would need to have a second set of drapery installed, to catch the light missed by the first. Once he could open his eyes, surely there would be some work that he could accomplish. Larsa had never been fond of lying abed uselessly, and a lump on the head was not going to change that. Even when he'd been ill as a child, his brother had always brought games and books to keep his mind occupied. Nowadays, the best that could be relied upon was a check-in by Gabranth.

The knock repeated, with more force. Groaning, Larsa covered his eyes with a forearm to aide the drapes. "I believe I requested privacy!" he shouted, and then moaned again as the sound rocked his skull. Proper reward for being so uncouth as to raise his voice, even to a servant.

A whisper of sound carried through the room, along with a gentle creak of hinges. "Basch thought you wouldn't mind seeing me," a familiar, beloved voice whispered. "How's your head?"

Struck by disbelief, Larsa pushed himself upright, eyes wide. He paid for it dearly. His vision revolved on its axis and faded alarmingly at the edges, tinting a strange green. But before he collapsed back into his pillows he saw everything he had needed to. Penelo's lovely face peered around the edge of his door, her golden pigtails dangling over her shoulders, expression set in worry. Larsa clenched his eyes shut to handle the pain, and tried to stay still so the room would cease its spinning.

"That answers that question." A click sounded as the door shut, followed by footsteps as Penelo padded across the room in her soft slippers. Warm, soft hands pressed against his cheeks, and then his forehead. "Guess I got here just in time."

Penelo. _His_ Penelo—dearest friend and ally, partner through danger. He had not seen her in the year since the disaster aboard the Bahamut, and not expected to see her again until Ashelia's coronation a month hence. Almost as badly as his head for the chocobo, his heart ached for the distance from her.

His tongue felt thick and useless, cleaving to his palate, but he swallowed his nerves down and dared open his eyes to gaze up at her. "In time to see me made helpless by a squawking bird, you mean? Yes, quite on time. I shall be up and about soon enough."

"Sure you will." Smiling, she reached down and tugged up the duvet where it had fallen around his waist, blocking off the chill that had crept upon him. "And I'll be right here, making sure you rest until you're ready for it."

Time had done well by her. No longer did the hollow, hungry look of a life on the street mark her face, and her clothes were of much better quality and fit. Even her jewelry was better made, more decorative than practical. Gold glinted at her ears, and jingled at her wrists, a touch of ice where the bangles brushed his skin. Life as a pirate suited her well.

"You should not trouble yourself," Larsa insisted, closing his eyes before the headache could worsen beyond repair. No matter how he longed to look upon her, already it was too painful to bear. "I will not be so low for long. It is hardly worth your time."

The bed dipped, and heavy with her warmth as she pressed up against his side. Nostalgia crept upon him, for the times in Paramina, when she'd wrapped herself around him just so at night. "You're always worth my time," Penelo whispered near his shoulder. Her hand touched his cheek again, then slid up to brush back his hair.

Light as the touch was, it soothed a restlessness in him, relaxing him enough that he sagged back into the pillows. "And you, mine."

Penelo kissed his cheek, and he imagined her could feel her smile. "Go to sleep, Larsa."

He did, drifting off with the feel of her lips against his skin.


End file.
